


Hysteresis

by Meadow Lion (Meadow_Lion)



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Forever Evil (Comics), Forever Evil: Rogues Rebellion (Comics), The Flash (Comics), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, M/M, Metropolis, Slash, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadow_Lion/pseuds/Meadow%20Lion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hysteresis: a response coming later, after a force has effected changes in a body's substance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hysteresis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beckyh2112](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckyh2112/gifts).



> I hope beckyh2112 enjoys this! The story immediately follows Mick's final on-page scene in _Forever Evil: Rogues Rebellion_. I've read that and all the New 52 _Flash_ books but not everything of FE; please read this bearing that in mind, and, if need be, view it as existing separately from further canon events. All mistakes are my own.

The world's a blaze so bright, nothing else exists.

Except something else flares brighter. Just for a second.

Then it all goes dark.

~*~*~

 _Cold_ is Mick's first thought. What the hell?

He hasn't felt a chill in ages. Now he's shivering all over, and leaden, like dead weight.

Wait.

"I'm supposed to be dead." Mick forces open his eyes. Above is a white ceiling with those frosty peaks and swirls he's never understood. "This some kind of hell?"

"Metropolis," a rough voice beside him clarifies.

Tipping his head that direction, Mick gets a faceful of Snart. Literally -- they smack foreheads.

"Jesus, Mick!" Snart rears away rubbing his head.

Mick does the same. Finally his vision's adjusted enough, not that it helps. The room is all plain white walls, plain white dresser kind of thing, plain white-sheeted king bed where Mick is lying. Snart -- in his usual gear but with the hood back, sleeves pushed up, and minus the goggles -- sits on a plain white armchair next to the bed. Mick looks again between the room and Snart, and says, "Did you become a decorator in hell?"

Snart rolls his eyes. Some tightness around them eases. "I told you, not hell, we're in Metropolis. In a safe house where Lex Luthor is letting us crash."

"Luthor's our buddy now?" Mick grunts. "What else'd I miss?"

"You fell through a mirror practically into my lap, burnin' up a storm. We brought you here. Some lady of mercy who works with Luthor gave you medical help."

Mick grins. "Sexy candy striper?"

"I bet she'd kill you for callin' her that, but she probably saved your life. You've still been out for days, though. We weren't sure you'd wake up." Snart looks away. "Thought I might be on double bedside duty."

"Aw, how sweet."

Snart leans in close to peer at Mick, like he must have been doing when Mick turned. Snart's fingers clench the edges of the bedsheet. "Jesus, Mick, what happened to you? To the Rogues and Lisa?"

Blinking back up at the ceiling, Mick thinks. Chuckles but shivers again at the same time. "They should be good. Sam, Marco, and the kid were headin' back to your sister. Scudder must've dropped me anywhere he could, through a fender or something. I was goin' out in a blaze of glory on a truck roof to keep more of those Syndicate jerks off them."

"Heh. I figured something like that." Snart tugs up on the sheet.

"Why?" Mick asks. " **I** didn't figure I'd do it, till I was. And I knew you wouldn'tve."

Snart sits back, hard, and squints. Looks like he'd shoot ice bolts from his eyes, if he could. "What do you mean?"

Mick snorts. "I told Scudder we weren't none of us going to bite the big one for nobody else on the team. You especially wouldn't for me."

"The hell I wouldn't!" Now Snart's reddening, gaze more like lightning. Like he's heating up. Speaking of . . . 

"You're a cold-hearted sonofabitch, Snart." Mick lifts his hands, shrugs. "Not like I can't respect the mindset, but you care about your sis and the score, that's it."

Leaping from the chair, Snart bends over him. Close as breath, gusting with a spark of warmth across Mick's face, when Snart says, "I've learned better. I care about protectin' the Rogues. Tell me you know that."

Maybe Mick doesn't, and maybe he does, now. He stares at Snart, at his crackling gaze and his mouth pursed sharp as firecrackers.

Maybe he just likes firing up Snart.

"I know you think you're better," he says.

Snart groans, something exasperated and pissed and, whoa, **hot** , right before his mouth clashes with Mick's.

It's a sloppy wreck of a kiss, Lenny's tongue licking between Mick's lips, Mick's teeth scraping. Both sucking and biting. Breathing pulsing heat into each other's mouths like moody volcanos. Lenny's fingers squeezing Mick's bare shoulders tears a ragged sound out of him.

Lenny falls back a little. Puts some room between their faces but keeps his hands where they are, warm. "Shit, sorry."

"For what," Mick pants, "kissin' me or makin' it rough? I liked both."

Letting out a wobbly laugh, Lenny says, "Yeah? Want me to do it again?"

Mick feels the rasp of material across the fat head of his dick where it nudges the sheet. Suddenly -- what? he's not Mister Sensitive -- picks up on something. He flaps the edge of the sheet. "Sure you haven't been already?"

"Hey!" Lenny shakes his head. "I got a code! I'm not feelin' you up in your sleep, or your coma or whatever. I'm not Prince Charming --"

"No kidding."

Lenny glares more sparks. "And you're sure as hell no Sleeping Beauty, Rory."

"I thought, more like you were Twistin' my Del Mar," Mick says, leering.

At that Lenny laughs outright, full and long. A good sound. Mick doesn't remember last hearing it. Knows he didn't appreciate it enough then.

Fake-flattening his lips, Lenny says, "I can't believe you saw _Brokeback Mountain_."

"Never said I did." Mick pulls himself up to sitting. He doesn't look where the sheet falls. Looks instead for Lenny's reaction. "Just liked the story, the writer's style."

"Of course." Lenny's gaze drags slowly from Mick's face, to his lap, burning by the time it gets back to his face. Lenny slicks his tongue over his bottom lip then breathes out, slow. "Guess you're up for this. No pun."

"I'd be even more up for it, if you turned down the Cold factor, Snart." Because what the hell? Mick's shivering again.

Lenny tightens his mouth. "That's not me, Mick. I mean, I don't -- I think you're feelin' that because you're still healin' from your flame-out."

Glaring, Mick crosses his arms. "Don't baby me. You mighta been the leader once, but you ain't my big bro."

"Thank God," Lenny mutters. "I'm just sayin', you still need to rest."

Mick makes a disgusted sound.

Lenny copies Mick, arms crossed. "Sleep now, we come back to this later. Deal?"

Shivers tickle at him. His energy and his dick are flagging, damn them. Mick huffs. "One condition."

"What?"

Mick lifts the sheet, jerks his chin at the big bed. "Get in here."

Lenny just climbs in, doesn't talk. Even when Mick yanks Lenny's arm across Mick's chest. A smile flickers on Lenny's face. Hinting at a bigger flame tamped behind for now. With that behind his eyes Mick drops off to sleep. Warm.

\- end - 


End file.
